


Treasure Hunter's Codebook

by frizz22



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: AUs, F/M, Gen, Some Cursing, because I'm a sucker for these two idiots, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-06-28 03:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frizz22/pseuds/frizz22
Summary: Summary: Codes and treasure hunting? What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Code Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Note: origins of the code
> 
> This has been on my desktop half finished for ages, finally getting around to posting it.

They were lounging on the couch, watching some Spanish medical soap opera and drinking beers between jobs. Life was like this, the highs and intensity they experienced for weeks while on a job followed by the excruciatingly long bouts of calm or laying low that filled their time between gigs. 

While she’d despised these lows before, Chloe found that since Nate had come along and started spending his time with her during these lulls that she didn’t mind them as much as she used to. So, where she’d have been practically crawling the walls in boredom before, Chloe was now quite content slouching on the couch with Nate’s head in her lap, her fingers carding through his hair. Her thoughts were only interrupted when Nate shot up, nearly knocking the beer from her hand. 

Ignoring her complaints, Nate kept his eyes on the screen. “We should have a code.” 

Chloe blinked at him, “what?” 

“A code!” He exclaimed, shifting to face her at last. “Like they have in hospitals,” Nate gestured at the TV where the characters were trying to revive a patient. 

Chuckling, Chloe shook her head. “Sure thing, cowboy.” She winked and patted his leg before taking a swig of her drink. 

Offended by her lack of interest, Nate took her beer from her and set it on the coffee table. “No really,” he beseeched, his expression earnest. 

A smile tugged Chloe’s lips as she decided to indulge this man-child sitting next to her. “And what kind of code would that be?” She quirked a brow at him, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and propping her chin up. 

“Uh, so, code blue,” Nate grasped on what had been on TV. “That could mean… no more bullets. You’re out and need more.” He smiled at her triumphantly. 

Quirking a brow, Chloe grabbed her beer once more and took another sip. “Blue, bullets, very original.” She quipped dryly, smirking as she brought the bottle to her lips again. 

“Well, it’s better than shouting ‘I’m out’ for the enemy to hear.” He retorted smugly. 

Chloe rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched in amusement. “Fine, you have a point.” She conceded, setting her drink back down on the coffee table. 

Brow furrowing, Nate tapped his fingers on his thigh, deep in thought. “Red could mean you’re reloading.” He added after a moment, eyes lighting up with excitement. 

“Are all of these going to be alliterations?” Chloe drawled teasingly, poorly smothering her smile. 

Nate moved quickly, pinning her to the couch underneath him. “Got a problem with that?” He challenged, the words ghosting against her cheek and ear. 

Humming, Chloe arched her back in retaliation, so her body pushed against his. “Not at all, love. Just asking questions about this treasure hunting code of yours.” 

“ **Ours**.” He corrected, kissing her neck and pressing his body against hers more firmly. 

Her chuckle turned to a gasp when Nate locked his mouth on the spot just underneath her jaw that always made her melt. “Alright, this code of _ours_ ,” she amended, slightly breathless before tugging his mouth to hers and the conversation dwindled off.


	2. Code Green

Nate came barreling around the corner, “green! Code green!” He shouted, arms pumping and approaching her fast. 

“What?” Chloe stood, bewildered, from where she’d been crouched, carefully extracting an old piece of pottery that was amazingly intact. 

Sprinting past her towards the entrance, Nate yelled, “code green,” over his shoulder. 

That was when she heard the crack. Suddenly the floor rumbled from a collapse deeper inside the ruins. “Fuck,” she muttered, stuffing the pottery unceremoniously into her satchel and turning tail to chase after Nate. She burst out into daylight a moment after Nate, a cloud of dust enveloping them a second later. 

Coughing and breathing heavily, they made their way further from the temple and to the jeep parked about twenty feet away. When they’d cleared most of the dust, Chloe turned to Nate. “What the bloody hell did you do?” She demanded, trying to make out the ruins through the dust that was still settling. 

Waving a hand in front of his face to dispel the rest of the dust, Nate looked at her with a wide-eyed expression of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s an old building, Chlo, we’re lucky it was even upright for us to find in the first place.” 

Eyes narrowing, Chloe raise a brow. “I don’t believe **that** for a damn minute.” She countered, punching his arm and turning to the jeep for the water; some dust had coated the inside of her throat. 

“Chlo, your distrust hurts.” Nate complained, rubbing his arm and attempting to look wounded by her words. 

She just snorted in return before taking a long drink from the water bottle they’d thankfully left in the car. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Chloe turned and leaned against the car. “How much did you leave standing in there?” She asked, jerking her chin towards the ruins where the dust had finally settled. “Is it a lost cause now?” 

Nate snatched the water from her, taking a swig as he leaned next to her. “We can see what’s salvageable, but I don’t think it’ll be much.” He grimaced at her and offered the water bottle back. 

Shaking her head, Chloe sighed. “What happened, Nate?” She inquired, knowing she sounded tired. And he knew why. This was the first ‘easy’ job they’d had in a while; no racing against anyone else, no gunfire… they’d even had a permit to be there. It should’ve been a pure profit expedition. And now, now at least half of their profit was buried, or more likely, destroyed. 

“I may…” Nate trailed off guiltily and then continued in a much faster voice; as if saying it more quickly made it better. “I may have tried to open up an old vault door… and that door may have been supporting a good chunk of the ceiling. I didn’t realize it’d become such an integral support in the past however many years.” He tucked the water back into the trunk and rubbed a hand through his hair, sending up a cloud of dust. “A huge crack formed, and I just legged it, didn’t want to wait and see what happened.” 

Chloe nodded, it was an easy enough mistake to make; though Nate should know to err on the side of caution at this point in his career. But there was no undoing it, so Chloe just placed the piece of pottery she’d saved in the car next to the water and they made for the ruin once more. 

As they reached the entrance to assess what damage had been done, Chloe turned to him, realizing something. “Next time don’t make up codes as you go,” she scolded lightly, a brow lifted in remonstration. 

Nate looked at her, perplexed. “What?” 

“We never established a code green, cowboy.” She huffed in amusement and ducked under the chunk of rock that now partially barred the door. 

Following her closely, Nate huffed in return. “Yes we did.” 

And despite herself, Chloe couldn’t help but laugh. “When?!” She demanded, straightening up and turning to face him when the space opened up once more. 

Flabbergasted, Nate just gaped at her. “Code green means go.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question of _when_ we established it.” She pointed out, cocking her head at him and moving deeper into the ruins. “And really, green means go? Like a traffic light?” Chloe glanced over her shoulder at him, laughter on her lips. 

Muttering to himself, Chloe just caught something that sounded like “there’s nothing wrong with alliteration,” before Nate spoke up louder; trying to make up when they’d agreed on green as a code. 

Purposely ignoring Nate’s comments, both of them knowing he was bullshitting at this point, Chloe brought up another point. “Another thing, you do realize that green takes longer to say than go, right?” She smirked at Nate as she squeezed through a gap, “defeats the purpose of the code a bit, don’t you think?” 

Nate scoffed indignantly and they continued to playfully bicker over the newest addition to the code as they moved further into the partially collapsed temple.


	3. Code Grey

“Sullivan joining in on this one?” Chloe asked over her shoulder as she finished loaded her weapons. 

Nate chortled. “Not willingly.” Partially turning, Chloe raised a brow at him. “He says he’s too old for this kind of stuff.” Nate elaborated when he saw her expression, zipping up one of the duffels with their other supplies. 

Rolling her eyes, Chloe shook her head. “He’s been saying **that** for years.” 

Looking vindicated, Nate nodded. “That’s what I said!” 

But his response didn’t put Chloe at ease as she’d hoped. Turning completely to face Nate, Chloe picked at a hang nail. “Sully _does_ know that he doesn’t have to come, though, right?” 

Taken back by her tone, Nate looked back up at her. “Of course he does—” 

“Because you know that man would do anything for you. Even if you didn’t explicitly ask.” She reminded him, though Nate might see Sully as more of a mentor and some kind of uncle, Chloe knew Sully thought of Nate as the son he’d never had. 

Nate stopped loading a secondary duffel and looks at her. “I, Chlo, I wouldn’t ask him to do anything he’s not comfortable with. Sully’s a grown-ass man, he takes care of himself.” 

Mouth tugging to the side in skepticism, Chloe crossed her arms and brought her gaze to Nate’s. “Yeah, he can. But that doesn’t mean he won’t take care of you first and then himself.” 

Exhaling, Nate threw his hands into the air. “What do you want me to say, Chlo? Sully knows this job is a simple drop off/pick up, he’s fine. He was just whining because I think _he_ thinks it’s expected of him at this point; playing the part of grumpy old man.” 

Unable to argue with at least that part, Chloe inclined her head and turned back to her packing. 

“Besides,” Nate continued, “do you know anyone who could fly us there on such short notice and with questionable permit licenses?” 

A chuckle escaped her and Chloe shook her head. “Point taken. I don’t know anyone who could fly us.” Both of them satisfied, they went back to preparing for their job. 

~~~~~~~~ 

The job could have gone better. They’d gotten the merchandise easy enough, it was the getting away part that they were currently struggling with. 

Sprinting through the trees that lined the beach where Sully was docked, Chloe and Nate ‘dodged’ the spray of bullets following them. 

“Radio Sullivan!” Chloe gasped, leaping over a downed log and ducking her head as the tree next to her exploded; bark flying into the air from being hit with a bullet. 

Grunting in acknowledgement, Nate wrestled the walkie off his belt and held it to his mouth as he continued to run. “Code grey!” He shouted as they rounded the final stretch, the dock coming into view along with Sully’s water plan. 

The radio crackled to life and a growling response of “what?” came through. 

“Code—” he began to repeat. 

Snatching the radio from Nate, Chloe jammed the button down. “Get the bloody plane started! We’re coming in hot!” She relayed as they ran across the beach, completely exposed, and praying the people in pursuit were a bit further behind than they’d last sounded. Otherwise they’d be swiss cheese before they reached the plan. 

By some miracle, Sully got the plane up and running in record time and had flung the door open for them so they could make running jumps into the thing. They’d barely cleared the door and Sully was already piloting them away, bullets ricocheting off the metal sides of the plane. Sprawled on the floor, panting and thanking all the various gods for their good fortune, Chloe and Nate didn’t move except to kick the door closed. 

After a few minutes, Sully turned in his seat and looked at them. “What the hell is a code grey?” 

Chloe couldn’t help herself, laughter burst out of her as Nate haltingly tried to explain their code. 

Sully seemed less amused, though there was a slight gleam in his eye as he spun back around. “Grey! Come on kid.”


	4. Code Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during Uncharted 2

Elena hadn’t been sure what she expected when she decided to chase after Lazarevic to prove the man was still alive and warmongering. But she could have said with certainty that she _never_ expected to see Nate there. 

She wasn’t sure what surprised her more, his presence or his partner. Chloe was beautiful, Elena begrudgingly gave her that, not that a woman should be judged on appearance, but when encountering an ex for the first time since the breakup… Elena thought she could be forgiven for being superficial. 

But it wasn’t only that Chole was beautiful, she was smart, could easily handle herself, and knew when to cut ties. The last one wasn’t Elena’s favorite, because Jeff—her camera man—had been that needed to be cut after he’d been shot and both she and Nate had refused to leave him. But it was a useful skill to have, an important one… one they should have listened to if they’d wanted to stay ahead of Lazarevic. 

They hadn’t listened, though. 

And now she and Nate had barely escaped with their lives, Chloe was smuggled away on the enemy's train and Nate was hellbent on getting her and the dagger the two of them had discovered back. 

She could understand his motivation, hoped that if the situation were reversed he’d be just as eager to get her back as Chloe—Elena certainly didn’t want to be at the very limited mercy of a war criminal. But what she didn’t understand was how exactly they were going to stop a train, save Chloe and get the dagger back without dying. 

Nate didn’t seem to have much of an idea either, but Elena knew from experience that that never stopped him before. Sighing, she charged after him. As they progressed, exchanging fire with Lazarevic’s men, Nate kept yelling random colors out at her. Reds, greens, once a blue. He repeated blue several times with increasing urgency until she finally turned to him from where she was hunkered down and glared at him. 

“What?!” She hissed, not in the mood for whatever game he was playing. 

Something seemed to dawn on Nate then, and he just shook his head, vaulted the barrier he was hiding behind and tackled the nearest soldier; promptly stealing his gun. 

When they dispensed of the last guy, Elena caught his arm and spun Nate around. “What the hell was that? All those colors?” 

Shaking her off, Nate sighed. “Just, just a code Chloe and I use. Sorry, got in the habit and forgot that—” 

“Forgot that I’m not her.” Elena finished softly, running a hand over her face. “Well, don’t forget in the future, because I had no idea what you needed or were doing. We need to be on the same page if we’re going to get Chloe back and stop Lazarevic.” 

Nodding, Nate stooped to pick up some more ammo. “Got it, let’s move.” 

~~~~~~~~~ 

Chloe’s ears were ringing and when she opened her eyes her vision swam as well. Fucking Harry and his grenades. Groaning, Chloe peeled herself off the ground and tried to orient herself, Nate was moving beside her with equally slow movements which told Chloe he wasn’t badly hurt. 

It was then her eyes focused on the woman in front of her. “Jesus,” she breathed, pushing herself onto her knees and moving forward. “Nate!” Chloe called, crawling to where Elena lay a few feet away, bloody and whimpering. “Nate! Code yellow, code yellow….” 

They’d never used a code yellow before, but Chloe hadn’t even thought about it. She’d been calling the woman sunshine, blondie and half a dozen other nicknames that it hardly seemed to matter that she’d made one up on the fly; something she’d playfully chastised Nate for only the year before. 

But if it was a code yellow then it couldn’t be something worse. Something they’d already created a code for but prayed they’d never have to use. 

So, while it wasn’t a code Nate recognized, it was enough to propel him off the ground and towards Elena. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They’d all miraculously survived. Chloe still wasn’t sure how, but she wasn’t going to complain about the turn out. Well… maybe a little. 

She watched Nate rush over to Elena’s side, tenderly guiding her over to the vista so she could get a glimpse of the mountainous view. She might complain a little about that. About the code yellow. 

It hadn’t been difficult to deduce their history, that Nate might still have some lingering feelings. But Chloe had felt secure enough that it hadn’t mattered. Hadn’t mattered when Nate took Elena’s side again and again. Hadn’t mattered when he threw Chloe to the wolves instead of leaving a dead man walking to escape. It hadn’t mattered until that bloody grenade went off. 

Maybe it was the close call with death that rekindled things. Maybe Nate had never seen his relationship with Chloe as anything serious; merely a partnership with perks. Maybe all the jobs, late nights, codes and time opening up to one another didn’t mean nearly as much as Chloe had thought it had. Maybe she'd been the rebound all along. 

Whatever it was, Chloe knew when it was time to cut ties. So, she’d ended it before Nate had the chance, she had her pride, after all, and given the pair one last look before walking away. 

Unable to help but wish they’d never encountered a code yellow.


	5. Code Brown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set after Uncharted 2, Nate and Elena are only dating

Chloe banged on the door, praying this was the correct address. Nate had a habit of packing up and moving unexpectedly. 

Nothing. 

Though it was two in the morning. Swearing, Chloe kicked aside the welcome mat, felt along the top of the door and checked the nearby fire extinguisher for the spare key. 

Nothing. 

Damn him. She stumbled to the door again and started to pound on it once more. “Nate! It’s a code—” A woman suddenly yanked the door open, unkept but awake and Chloe was already cursing and apologizing and turning to leave when the woman caught her arm. 

“Chloe?” 

Pausing, Chloe pivoted back around and took a closer look. “Elena! Oh, thank god, this **is** the right place.” Without waiting for a reply, Chloe pushed past the blonde, letting her bag slip from her shoulder and hit the floor as she unsteadily progressed down the short hallway—running into the wall and furniture as she went, clutching her side. 

She made straight to the kitchen—easy enough thing to do in the apartment, even if she’d never been to this particular one—and groped around on top of the fridge, grimacing. 

Recovering from what was likely shock, Elena shut the front door and trailed after her. “What, what are you doing here?” She asked incredulously, watching as Chloe struggled to find what she was looking for. 

Before Chloe could explain, Nate emerged from what she assumed was the bedroom, ruffled and rubbing his eyes. “Wassup?” He rasped and then caught sight of Chloe fumbling in the kitchen. “Chlo?” 

Glancing over her shoulder, Chloe cocked her head in greeting. “Hey cowboy,” she tried to go for her usual laid-back drawl, but the pinched look on her face apparently gave her away because Nate was rushing forward. 

“Oh Christ… sit. I’ve got it.” It must have suddenly dawned on him what she was trying to do. Nodding gratefully, Chloe managed the few steps necessary to get her to the table and practically collapsed into a chair. Nate moved quickly and snatched a kit off the top of the fridge that had been just out of her reach before hurrying to Chloe. 

Elena watched it all unfold in confusion. “What’s going on?” She demanded, finally flicking on the kitchen light so they could actually see what was happening. 

“Code brown.” Chloe managed, whimpering as Nate helped her out of her leather jacket. And now that the light was on Chloe knew Elena can see what bad shape she was in. Sweat beaded her brow and Chloe had a feeling she was several shades paler normal. The busted lip and a bruise spanning across one of her cheeks probably didn’t help either. 

Setting her jacket aside, Nate spread the kit out on the table. “I told you it was code shit.” He grumbled going to the sink to wash his hands. 

A huff escaped her, and Chloe immediately regretted the action. “And I told you, that just because this is an ‘oh shit’ moment, doesn’t mean I’m calling it that.” She retorted, gasping in pain. 

“Wait, what is a code brown or shit or whatever?” Elena questioned, though based on the now visible dark red stain making its way across Chloe’s shirt it appeared the blonde was getting an idea. 

Looking up at the ceiling and gritting her teeth, Chloe tried to concentrate on explaining to Elena instead of on the pain. “Part of a treasure hunter code Nate and I established years ago,” she ground out, bringing her gaze back down to meet Elena’s. “We made a deal, if either one of us got hurt we could show up at the other’s place, get medical help. And if the other wasn’t there, we’d always store supplies on top of the fridge.” Chloe nodded at the appliance that was now smeared lightly with blood from her shirt. “Though I couldn’t find your spare to get in, you bloody idiot—checked your usual spots. Lucky you were here, or I would’ve collapsed on your doorstep.” She finished, struggling to get her shirt off so Nate could have better access to her injury. 

Nate’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Be easier to cut it off,” he noted, raising a brow. When Chloe looked like she’d protest he added, “Chlo, it’s already ruined.” Sighing, and hating that he was right, she nodded. Nate picked up some scissors in the kit and efficiently snipped her shirt until it fell away. “And I, uh, gave the spare to Elena.” He mumbled, putting the scissors down and kneeling to inspect the wound. Before Chloe could remark on the spare key again, however, Nate sucked in a breath at what was revealed. “Chloe, this is past code shit. You need a hospital.” He pulled on a pair of medical gloves anyway. 

Breathing in sharply as he probed the area, Chloe shook her head. “No can-do, love,” she replied through clenched teeth. “Just patch up what you can, and I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“You’ve, you’ve been shot!” Elena exclaimed, shocked when she finally gotten a clear view of the injury. 

The two of them shot her warning looks. “Shout it a little louder sunshine, the cops didn’t hear you.” Chloe quipped and carefully rested the arm of her injured side on the back of the chair to give Nate better access. 

Elena shook herself. “I’m sorry, I just, I wasn’t expecting it.” 

A smirk tugged at her lips despite the situation and Chloe arched a brow at the blonde. “After getting blown up you’d think you’d be a little more open minded as to what happens on our line of work.” 

Having ignored their entire exchange, busy cleaning the area, Nate looked up at her. “It’s a through and through, doesn’t appear to have nicked anything important.” 

“Knew that already, cowboy, I’d be dead already otherwise.” Chloe snarked, but she’d tipped her head back and clenched her fists as Nate wiped another alcoholic wipe over the wound. 

He gave her an unimpressed look, knowing she was only being caustic to try and distract herself from the pain. “Couple of bruised, if not fractured, ribs too, some lacerations and—" Nate paused in his assessment, noticing little rivulets of blood trailing down the arm she’d propped up which was now dripping onto the table, he snatched the offending appendage. “Another bullet wound?!” 

Vision blurring and dipping, Chloe wet her lips. “Just a graze love, just a graze.” She murmured, swaying in her seat. “Gut shot’s really the one I’m worried... worried abo—" 

“Whoa, now,” Elena rushed forward and helped catch Chloe when she drooped over. “Nate, we _need_ to get her to a hospital.” 

“And tell them what?” Nate glanced at Elena and then back to Chloe. “No, I’ll patch her up, get fluids in her. She’ll be okay. She _has_ to be.” He muttered the last part almost to himself. 

Turning back to Elena, he pulled out his pocketknife; thankfully he’d fallen asleep in his jeans while doing research for a new job and set it on the table. “Turn on the stove and heat this on the fire.” He instructed, already patching the less severe wounds he could find. 

Elena took a step back. “What?” 

“It needs to be sterilized before I use it to cauterize where the bullet entered and exited.” Nate stood and quickly wiped Chloe’s upper arm graze wound, and frowned, it was deeper than he thought, it needed stitches. 

Hesitating, Elena pulled at her fingers. “Nate...” 

“Yeah?” He replied distractedly, opening a fresh pack of sutures and a needle. He quickly knotted the thread and looped it through the needle before starting. 

Chloe woke abruptly on the second stitch. “ _Son of a bitch_!” She snarled, keeping her voice low. “Couldn’t have at least numbed the area?” 

“Out.” Nate answered, not even pausing his stitches and then, as a way of apology, offered, “whiskey?” 

At this point Chloe would have taken just about anything. “Yes.” She replied, growling in the back of her throat as the needle made another pass through her skin. 

“With how much blood you’ve lost—” Elena tried to reason, finally turning on the stove. But she trailed off from the fierce look on Chloe’s face. She set the knife down, grabbed the whiskey and handed it over before starting to heat the knife. 

Chloe managed the cap with only one hand, grabbed the neck of the bottle and took a large swig, coughing as it went done. “Fuck,” she managed and then took another deep drink. “Alright, I’m ready, do what you have to cowboy.” 

Smirking, Nate finished his sutures with minimal cursing from Chloe. When he finished Elena came over and held out the knife, the end still glowing slightly. He held up a hand and turned to the her, eyes suddenly serious. He placed his hands on her shoulders to get her to focus. “Chlo, this is gonna hurt.” 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, love.” She slurred, eyes glazed with pain and alcohol, taking another long couple swigs, Chloe cleared her throat. “Dish cloth.” Nate grabbed a clean one from the drawer, rolling it slightly and held it taut and Chloe opened her mouth and bit down. She nodded and set the whiskey off to the side. 

“Knife,” Nate held out his hand, eyes still on Chloe. Elena just stared at the pair, how in sync they were even in this situation, and here she was still unable to process everything that was happening. “Elena, before it cools too much.” Nate urged her, and she handed it over carefully and watched transfixed and horrified as her boyfriend pressed the hot blade to the woman’s wound. Her scream muffled by the towel. “I know, I know babe.” He soothed, “but I need to get the back too.” And he pressed her forward quickly wiped the area again and pressed the other side of the knife to the hole. 

Chloe passed out, slumping against Nate, while she clearly had a high tolerance for pain, this on top of what had already happened was too much. 

Tossing the blade into the sink, Nate shifted Chloe so she was resting against the chair. Carefully extracting the dish cloth from her mouth, Nate gently wiped her lips before setting about cleaning Chloe up and wrapping her ribs and arm. 

Bloody gauze, needles and clothe littered the kitchen and Elena shook her head, hands at her temples before walking away to the bedroom. It was becoming abundantly clear that code brown was something the two used with frightening regularity. 

Nate barely noticed her leaving. Once Chloe was set, he took off his shirt and carefully slipped it onto the woman in front of him, figuring everyone would be more comfortable with her fully clothed. He then lifted Chloe carefully and carried her to the couch, laying her down, removing her boots and covering her with a blanket. 

Not even a few moments passed, and Chloe moaned, starting to twist where she lay. “Easy, hey easy babe,” Nate held her in place, “don’t want to make any of it worse; reopen anything. You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

“Nate?” 

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here, I’ve got you.” 

She offered him a loopy smile, eyes unfocused, “you always do,” she mumbled before passing out again. 

Nate fussed around her a bit more, checking her temperature, brushing her hair back from her face, tucking her in more securely before going to grab another shirt and heading to the kitchen to clean up. Making mental notes of what supplies he needed to refill. 

About 30 minutes later a sharp inhale from the couch had him hurrying over. “Chlo? You awake?” 

“Wishing I wasn’t,” she ground out, opening her eyes to look at him. “Got anything for the pain?” 

He reached over and grabbed the ibuprofen and the large glass of water. “It’s not much,” he shook out five pills and handed them to her. “It’ll only dull the pain, if that. Got a call in to Sully—he’s bringing the heavy hitters in the morning.” 

Chloe tipped her head back and swallowed, washing them down with half the glass of water. “Better than nothing, thanks.” She gave him a pain-tinged smile and settled back into the couch. 

Taking a seat on the coffee table across from her, Nate touched her hand. “Chlo, what happened?” 

“Deal gone bad; wish I could say you should see the other guy... but he kicked my ass. I got away with the goods though,” she smirked, jerking her thumb towards the bag she’d left on the floor when she entered. “That’s why he shot again, hit center mass too. Realized I’d snagged the product before hopping on my bike.” 

Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, Nate sniffed. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

Lips tipping up at one corner, Chloe waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, you were fine. Handled it all with finesse.” She commended before screwing her eyes shut and breathing deeply through a wave of pain. “Any chance of more whiskey?” 

“Promise me you won’t get shot again.” 

“Nate—” she hedged, eyes cracking open once more. 

Undeterred, Nate locked eyes with her. “ _Promise_ me.” 

“Will I get whiskey if I do?” Nate’s steady eye contact sobered her mood though, causing her to tilt her head on the pillow, examining him—maybe she had scared him after all. But it was easier to tease than be vulnerable. “That’d be an easier promise to make if I had _someone_ I trusted watching my back.” 

He withdrew his hand from hers at the comment. “You know—" 

Restraining an eye roll, Chloe nodded. “I do. You’re trying this domestic thing.” She waved her hand to encompass the apartment. And her eyes were sad when she returned her gaze to him. But it was gone the next moment. “Then I guess I can’t make any promises,” she intoned, then gritted her teeth and pressed a hand to her side. 

Alarmed, Nate stood up. “What can I—, ice? How about ice?” 

Chloe nodded grimly and squeezed the hand he’d placed on her shoulder when she’d initially winced. “And whiskey?” She added hopefully, knowing full well that a few ibuprofen and ice would hardly touch the waves of pain sweeping through her. 

“No more whiskey,” Nate remarked, hurrying to the kitchen. “Elena was right about your blood loss. You need nonalcoholic fluids, Chlo.” He called over his shoulder and it was after he moved that Chloe caught a glimpse of Elena hovering in the bedroom doorway—Nate had been blocking her from view. 

Attempting a smile, Chloe gave the blonde a one-shouldered shrug. “Hey, sunshine,” she rasped, trying to sound upbeat. “Sorry to barge in like this, didn’t even bring you a housewarming present. But in this line of work there are only so many people you—" 

“Yeah, I get it,” Elena cut her off, walking closer to the couch with her arms crossed. “You okay?” 

She grimaced but inclined her head. “Hopefully will be soon. But don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair by morning.” 

Elena looked at her for a long moment. “How long you’re here isn’t what I’m worried about with you.” She breathed, eyes flicking to where Nate was wrapping ice packs in towels. 

Taken aback, Chloe blinked. “What?” She began, baffled but before she could even try to understand the statement Nate returned, ice packs in hand. 

“Got a couple... Elena, sorry if I woke you.” He apologized, sitting on the couch by Chloe’s hip and tenderly lifting her to slip a pack underneath her side and then lowered her down. When she whimpered at the pressure he leaned forward and reassuringly whispered, “I know babe. But it’ll feel better soon, kay?” And with her tiny nod of approval, he pressed the other ice pack to her abdomen, making her hiss but she didn’t protest further. “That’s my girl,” he beamed and squeezed her hand encouragingly. He turned to Elena, then. “Thanks for your help earlier, couldn’t have done it without you.” His smile faltered at her expression—how she was watching Chloe and him. “Everything alright?” 

Coming back to herself, Elena shook her head. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m going to bed, you coming?” 

“Not yet,” he jerked his head towards Chloe, indicating he wanted to make sure she was settled first. On her part, Chloe seemed oblivious to their conversation, eyes screwed shut and breathing deeply, likely trying to focus on each breath than on the pain and the pressure of the ice packs. 

Lips pressing into a tight line, Elena nodded and drifted back to the bedroom, the door clicking shut softly. Pushing the look on her face out of his mind, Nate turned back to Chloe who was attempting to minimize her movements, but the pain made it difficult to be still. 

“Babe, try not to move.” He scooted closer and tried to calm her. 

A grimace appeared on Chloe’s lips. “I’m trying,” she snapped, though Nate certainly didn’t deserve her anger, certainly hadn’t put her in this position, Chloe couldn’t keep her anger in check. Trying to soften the verbal blow, she added. “No matter how I lay though something hurts.” And oh, didn’t she sound pitiful, but at the moment Chloe couldn’t find it within herself to care. 

Nate didn’t seem to care either. “Here,” he stood and took her feet, pulling her down the couch a bit. 

The sudden movement had flares of pain ripping through her. “Ow, fuck, Nate, What—" 

“Ah—" he held up a hand, he then rotated her so she was no longer flat on the couch and her uninjured side was against the cushions. Readjusting her ice packs as well. 

Though it was less painful, she now had to awkwardly prop herself on her arm and she was too tired to hold the position long. “Nate—" 

“Ah—" he interrupted again, smirking slightly at her narrowed eyes. He then came and sat down on the couch next to her so she could rest her head on his thigh, relieving the pressure on her arm. Nate then pulled the band out of her hair and began running his fingers through it. 

She sighed, relaxing minutely; it appeared she’d judged him too quickly… this _was_ much better. There were few things in the world that felt as nice as someone playing with her hair. Nate started to hum softly, a little Spanish song he’d once admitted to her that he’d learned to try and impress some girl. She smiled at the tune and relaxed further as Nate began to massage her scalp. 

“Thank you, love.” She murmured, falling asleep to his tender treatment. 

Nate remained there, working the tangles from her hair—it always got tangled when she rode her motorcycle without a helmet. He froze and stared at her sleeping form. She’d been beaten by a dirty broker and shot as she escaped on her bike. God only knew how far she’d gone in that condition until she reached his building. He took a shuddering breath and continued his ministrations. Occasionally Chloe would shudder and groan, her face contorting with pain but he managed to soothe her before she reached full consciousness each time. 

He could’ve lost her tonight. It could’ve been a code black and he wouldn’t have found out for _days_. 

Weeks, even. 

It wasn’t like their communication was consistent. Cell service wasn’t always reliable where they went and Chloe somehow managed to break or lose her phone on a regular basis. So, not hearing from her would’ve been normal. 

Closing his eyes, Nate forced the thought away. She **hadn’t** died. She was here, she was strong, and their code saved her. Except… except he’d given the spare key to Elena and Chloe was right, she likely would’ve collapsed on the doorstep if much more time had passed. And god, he probably would’ve been the one to find her the next morning... 

Chloe woke with a start and a strangled growl of pain, cutting through his mental spiral. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts Nate missed how she was becoming increasingly agitated. “Chlo, Chloe it’s okay. You’re safe.” He reassured softly, fingers working out a few more tangles in her hair. 

Eyes cracking open a bit, Chloe shifted to look at him groggily. “Nate?” 

“Yeah, I’m here Chlo. Go back to—" Before he could finish his sentence, though, Chloe was suddenly pushing herself up off the couch, only to crumple just as quickly against the armrest in pain. “The blood.” She gritted out, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “I need to go.” Baffled, Nate shook his head. “What? Chloe just talk to me we can figure it out. Don’t try and move, you’ll hurt yourself more.” His hands pressed down on her shoulders gently, but firmly, when she made to get up again. 

“ _The blood._ ” She repeated, and even in her pained and dazed state she managed to sound a bit haughty. 

He glanced down at her side, expecting to see blood seeping through the stitches he’d put in, the bandages, the shirt. But there wasn’t any and he’d already cleaned up the kitchen. “What about it?” 

Wiping sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand, Chloe’s head dipped and snapped back up; clearly fighting consciousness. “It, it may be smeared in your hallway.” She managed, letting him guide her back into a horizontal position and replace the ice packs. “And in the stairwell,” she added with a slight slur, “your neighbors, they’ll be up soon. Have to clean up or…” 

The pieces clunked into place. “Or someone will call the cops.” Nate finished, eyes widening. “Shit! I’m on it, _stay here_.” He ordered, handing her more aspirin and water before tucking a blanket around her. 

Nate then rushed to the kitchen, grabbed supplies and hurried into the hall. He sighed, he didn’t see anything too obvious, just small smears here and there where Chloe must have rested against a wall. Touching up those spots, Nate made for the stairwell, wiping the hand railings occasionally as he went. 

It was only once he reached the second floor that he saw the bloody handprint smeared on the wall; that wasn’t suspicious at all, certainly didn’t look like something from a horror movie. Hurriedly scrubbing the spot until you could only spot the stain if you were squinting and looking for it, Nate checked the surrounding area and found a few smaller spots that needed cleaning, apparently, Chloe had clearly struggled on the second flight of stairs. 

The rest of the way was clear, and Nate sighed in relief before rushing back upstairs. 

Gingerly opening and closing the door so as to not disturb Chloe, he set the supplies back in the kitchen and stripped the rubber gloves, dropping them in the trash. It was then he realized Chloe wasn’t on the couch. 

Panic swept through him momentarily, but there was no way out except the front door, and she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try the fire escape, right? Nate ran and checked anyway, just in case, because this was Chloe; but all the windows were still locked. A series of small crashes sounded from down the hall then, and Nate suddenly deduced where Chloe had gone. Bursting into the bathroom, he found Chloe on the ground, breathing heavily. “What the hell are you doing?” He demanded, heart pounding but relieved to see she was relatively alright. 

“Going to the bathroom, obviously.” Chloe retorted, trying and failing to leverage herself off the floor. 

Rolling his eyes, Nate bent to lift her up. “Why didn’t you just wait for me to get back?” 

A low growl emanated from the back of Chloe’s throat in response. “Because I’m a big girl, Nathan, I can go to the bathroom on my own.” 

Eyebrows shooting up, Nate scoffed. “Clearly not, not in this condition.” He sniped, irritated on how she was illogically insisting on being independent; going so far as to potentially hurt herself further before asking for his help. 

She sucked on her teeth and then allowed herself to be set on the lip of the tub. “It’s bloody embarrassing,” she muttered eventually. 

“Well suck it up,” Nate admonished, though he knew, deep down, that he’d likely be acting the same way if the situation were reversed; giving help was so much easier than receiving it. “I’ll help then leave and come back. Do not, and I repeat _do not_ keep trying to move around by yourself.” 

Making a face at him, Chloe exhaled slowly and then nodded, unbuttoning her pants so Nate could carefully lift her, shimmy the pants down around her lower thighs and set her on the toilet. “Can you manage the last—” he gestured to her underwear, ears burning slightly. 

Chloe rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes love, I can pull down my own knickers.” She waved him away. Exiting quickly, Nate shut the door and hovered for a moment—ensuring he didn’t hear Chloe fall back over—before going to grab a pair of Elena’s running shorts. 

With a quick glance at her sleeping figure in the bed, Nate dug through the dresser before heading back down the hall and talking through the door. “We may have to make some new rules for code brown...” he stated, fidgeting with the fabric in his hands. 

A muffled reply sounded through the door. “Why’s that?” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nate leaned against the door frame. “Just that you almost _died_ coming here, maybe we should set an injury severity limit.” Nothing but silence met his statement. Then the toilet flushed and there was some shuffling and she told him to come back in. Knowing it’d be easier to press the issue of revising code brown face-to-face; Nate opened the door. “Here, these will be better than your jeans.” He held the shorts up and Chloe looked skeptical but shrugged, likely unwilling to wear her constricting and bloodstained jeans any longer. 

As he helped her slip her jeans off and the shorts on, Chloe spoke up again. “Blondie won’t mind me borrowing them?” 

A soft chuckle escaped him at the old nickname. “Nah, she’ll be fine.” 

Chloe lifted a brow at him but didn’t argue. When he moved to help her back to the couch, she held up a hand. “Can I wash up first? Just give me a washcloth, I only need a few minutes.” 

Wrinkling his nose and sniffing exaggeratedly, Nate exhaled loudly. “Whew, yeah, I can’t believe I even let you on the furniture like this.” He teased, reaching under the sink to grab a new cloth and wetting it. Instead of handing it over as Chloe requested, though, he closed the toilet lid, sat on it and reached to wipe the cloth along Chloe’s arms. 

“Nate,” she murmured, trying to pull back and wincing at the movement, “I am perfectly capable—” 

He caught her forearm and looked at her imploringly. “Maybe,” he hedged, “maybe you are perfectly competent even with a **hole** going through you. But I’m here, let me take care of you, Chlo, please.” 

A soft smile tugged at her lips then and Chloe nodded and let him resume his work, wiping the blood and left-over grime from her arms, legs and face. As he finished, rinsing the cloth again, Nate plucked at the shirt she was wearing. “I should check your bandages while we’re in here.” 

Chloe scrunched her face at the suggestion but acquiesced with no further argument. The almost complete lack of resistance worried Nate more than anything, it meant she was in real pain and was holding it in. 

With extreme care, Nate checked her arm first. “This one shouldn’t have any problems,” he murmured, checking the area for unusual swelling, heat or other signs of infection and finding none. He then carefully lifted her shirt, well his and she looked damn good in it despite the circumstances. Forcing himself to focus, Nate unwound the bandages from Chloe’s torso. “Nothing looks infected, but there is swelling, though that could be expected given the injury and your ribs. Can’t tell you much else… you might still need a hospital.” He added apologetically. 

“We didn’t change the rules when you showed up at my place with your head about damn near bashed in.” She breathed, wincing as Nate began to put on fresh bandages. 

Surprised that she was the one to bring up the topic again, Nate blinked. “What?” 

Resting her head against the side of the shower, Chloe wet her lips. “You wanted to set new rules for code brown. We didn’t do that when you came to my place last time.” 

Brow furrowing, Nate pulled back so he could look her in the eye. “It wasn't that ba—" 

“Yeah Nate, it was.” Chloe interrupted, lolling her head a bit so she could see him better. “It was.” 

Unwilling to admit that she was right, Nate shook his head. “Well, this is different.” He muttered, returning to wrapping Chloe’s ribs. 

“Is it?” She deadpanned, lifting a brow. Nate ducked his head further, pretending to double check the wrap wasn’t going to come undone. His reply mumbled under his breath. “Didn’t quite catch that cowboy. Wanna try again.” Chloe drawled tiredly, poking him half-heartedly in the side. 

Clearing his throat, Nate straightened back up. “It is different because it’s _you_.” 

She exhaled slowly. “Nathan—" 

“I can live with what happens to me, but not if something happens to you.” He finished her bandages and let the shirt fall back into place. 

Grunting, Chloe pushed herself off the lip of the tub despite his protests and took a few steps, so she leaned heavily against the door frame. It hadn’t been the smartest move, her entire body complaining, but there was at least space between them now. “No, no you don’t get to do this.” 

Brow furrowing, Nate shook his head. “Don’t get to do what?” 

Chloe gritted her teeth, really not wanting to have this conversation. “You don’t get to say things like _that_. You don’t get to care about me like that anymore.” 

Her comment only seemed to confound Nate further. “Like what?! You’re—" 

“What? What am I to you Nate? A _friend_? A _work partner_? A _girlfriend_? Because you blur the lines a lot and I don’t think I can handle it much longer. You made your choice.” She threw a hand in the general direction of the bedroom where Elena slept. “Stick with it.” She spat, eyes blazing with a torrent of emotions. 

Turning, Chloe stumbled back to the couch, pissed she wasn’t in any condition to leave yet. Pissed she tipped her hand far more than she’d ever planned to. In fact, she hadn’t planned on revealing to him, however vaguely, that she was still upset by his decision to stay with Elena. 

He caught her in the hallway, “Chloe,” and despite her objection, he scooped her up and carried her back to the couch. So, she waited to press her case until he set her back down on the couch, not wanting to be in his arms while she said this. 

“You want to change the rules to code brown, Nathan? Fine. Next time I won’t come to you.” She rubbed the back of her neck tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll stay out of your wonderfully perfect domestic life. Just give me til Sullivan comes with the pain killers and I’ll leave with him—be on my way. Hell, while we’re at it might as well throw the whole code book out the window.” 

Taken aback, Nate blinked. “That’s **not** what I want!” He burst out, spearing his hands through his hair. They were both too exhausted for this conversation, Chloe was still in immense amounts of pain. But apparently this was the fight she wanted to pick. 

A mirthless laugh escaped her. “Then what _do_ you want, Nate?” Chloe demanded. 

He abruptly next to her on the couch, framing her face, he kissed her fiercely. “You.” He breathed when he broke away and rested his forehead against hers. “You except you walked away and left me. You except you made my choice for me and then made it out like it was my fault. You, I want you. I want to be the person you trust watching your back on a job. I lov—" 

Chloe almost melted into him for another kiss, because this is what she’d wanted to hear ever since Elena Fischer stumbled into their job and effectively knocked down the life Chloe had been building for herself. 

But at the thought of Elena, Chloe shoved Nate away. She hadn’t come here for this—she wanted it, damn she wanted it. But she _didn’t_ cheat and Elena was still very much Nate’s girlfriend. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t. Those are pretty words cowboy, but Elena—" 

“Saw this coming.” Elena’s voice broke into their conversation; they hadn’t exactly been quiet. She came partially into the living room, arms wrapped around her stomach. 

Nate backed away from Chloe quickly, but he didn’t get up, didn’t approach Elena. “Fuck.” He breathed, “Elena, I never…” 

She sighed, pressing her lips together. “Meant to hurt me, yeah...” she averted her eyes and blinked a few times. 

Guilt and joy swirled inside Chloe. “Elena…” she began slowly, unsure how to apologize when she was elated at what Nate had confessed. 

Holding up a hand, Elena cut her off. “Don’t.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I know you didn’t mean for this, either of you. I like to think we were friends for a bit there.” Her gaze flickered to Chloe who nodded—the blonde had certainly earned her grudging respect during their adventure. Elena sighed again, scrubbing a hand over her face before turning to Nate. “And I like to think there was something between us.”

Nate reached for Elena then. “Of course—"

“But we should’ve left it where we ended it after El Dorado, _that_ was our end point. It was a good one. We shouldn’t have tried to force this. I shouldn’t have, not when I could tell you still cared for her.” 

Both of them tried to contradict her then, but Elena continued. “To be clear, I’m not taking all the blame here, you should’ve acknowledged your feelings for her before. But some of it’s on me.” She bobbed her head a bit in acknowledgement. “And while I love investigative journalism and reporting from different places…. that is **so** far removed from what you do, and I don’t think I could ever ultimately approve of it. I mean, you’ve got a code in place for when one of you is _dying_. And you seem to use it somewhat often. I don’t— I don’t want a life like that. Came close enough to death myself and once was more than enough.” She slung a backpack over her shoulder that neither of the two had noticed before. “I got all my stuff,” she glanced at Chloe’s shorts and shrugged, “those were my least favorite, always rode up when I ran. Keep ‘em.”

Standing, Nate shook his head. “Elena, I’m so sorry. I—"

“Don’t worry about it, Nate.” She gave him a small smile and patted his chest. “Be safe.” Elena shifted to look at Chloe. “Keep each other alive, yeah?”

Chloe tilted her head at the woman and gave a grateful nod. “Sure thing, sunshine. You take care. And if you ever need anything...”

The blonde chuckled softly then. “Oh god, I hope I never have to, but I know I could count on you. Both of you.” She glanced at Nate one last time and set the spare key on the coffee table before leaving.

After Elena left, the two of them sat there, a bit dumbfounded by the turn of events. Eventually, though, Nate turned to her and gave her the dopiest grin. “Chlo,” he cupped her cheek, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. 

Grinning, Chloe huffed in disbelief. “I know, cowboy, I know. Me too.” She captured his lips in a short kiss. “But I’m still in the middle of a code brown, here, so maybe…” she pulled back with a small grimace, a hand to her ribs. “Maybe we can discuss this more in the morning, when I have some pain killers and sleep in my system?” 

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course, love you Chlo.” 

She carefully settled back onto the couch, eyes growing heavy even if her body ached horribly. “I love you too, Nate.” She murmured, intertwining her fingers with his. “And maybe, maybe we should reconsider what constitutes a code,” a wide yawn cracked her jaw, “a code brown.” She managed, barely catching Nate’s triumphant expression before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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